


Sugarbomb

by Shmeowzow



Series: Post-Apocalyptic [1]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-09 19:20:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16455794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shmeowzow/pseuds/Shmeowzow
Summary: Domino had her fair share of heartache and baggage; but for all of the people she'd met, traveled, and bonded with in the commonwealth since her resurrection, John Hancock was the only one she felt really understoond her. And she knew for a fact he was the only person who had never lied to her, not even once.





	Sugarbomb

Domino woke up in her bed in Sanctuary, overcome with cold sweats. She'd been having another nightmare; the one everyone had heard about, the one about her husband and Shaun. Wiping the damp beads from her forehead and transferring them onto the sheets with frustration, she rolled over to her busted bedside table, careful not to disturb her sleeping partner. She and Hancock had shared a bed since they met; there was always just kind of a connection they had that that made it not matter. Why make him sleep on the floor? Why waste valuable time and materials building him his own bed? There was an unspoken understanding between them. Neither of them tried anything or brought it up, and it just worked. Plus, two bodies was warmer.

Fumbling through the drawers, she found her tin of Buffout and various flavored Mentats, deciding she'd rather snort than shoot or swallow right now. She wasn't feeling tired anymore. Shoeless, and in her dirty underwear and tanktop, Domino padded quietly over to her bathroom, which was really just a dressed-up outhouse without the required proper modern plumbing. Immediately, she went for the cabinet above the makeshift sink, and withdrew her chem kit from the very back corner, behind some soap and linens. The little aluminum lunchbox consisted of razorblades, a small compact mirror, and a few snipped-off bendy straws. When she had her selections crushed and all in a line, ready to suck it into her sinuses, she felt the ghost of a touch on her hip. Hancock had her firmly in his grip before she could spin around, go for a weapon; he knew she always had a switchblade on her at least, but it didn't take long for Domino to realize it was her companion at her side, and not some rogue synth or raider. Her breath left her lungs in a sharp hiss. "Fuck John, you scared the dick off of me..."

Hancock smirked, spun her around slowly, and quipped, "Well I should hope so," in his familiar, raspy drawl. "I'm kind of offended I wasn't invited to your little party," he continued semi-jokingly.

He watched her rub the space between her eyebrows, down to the bridge of her nose, and his smirk fell into a grimace of thinly veiled concern. "Nightmares again, huh Dom?"

She nodded. He knew the dreams were, after all, the main reason she had turned to chems; it's part of what had drawn her to John in the first place. When she found him, or, when his second-in-command Farenheight, found Domino, Mel, and Bobbi No-nose in his Storehouse under false pretenses, Domino had been in a pretty bad place, mentally speaking. It had been two or so months since she'd come out of the vault, watched her husband die, watched her son be taken away from his freshly-cooling body, and only a week or two since she'd wasted the man who had taken Shaun away from her. However, she was feeling increasingly unhinged due to the fact that she, Shaun's mother, his only remaining parent, had not only missed a chunk of him growing up, but had also failed to bring herself any closer to him by doing the latter. That, and the nightmares. She'd had those from day one out out of Vault 111. So she may not have been thinking clearly when she capped Bobbi right then and there instead of taking a more diplomatic approach to the situation. Valentine still wouldn't speak to her after roping him into that one. Something inside Dom just, snapped when Bobbi admitted she'd tricked her, and when Hancock learned of her ruthless defense of his stash, he called her to his home to reward her in person. She'd dealt with John before, offhandedly, and had always gotten an easygoing, if not n'erdowell-ish vibe from him she could relate to. However, that hadn't factored in so much with her dispatching of Bobbi, though she took the undue credit from John, and even accepted his offer to throw her a thank you party, "Goodneighbor-style," whatever that meant. It was after their second shared bottle of bourbon, that John opened up to her about founding his little rag-tag settlement, and Domino spilled the beans about how her nightmares haunted her, about not really knowing why she pulled the trigger on Bobbi. Luckily, or unluckily, depending on who one asked, John had a chem for everything, and his little soiree was Dom's introduction to Hancock's own recipe of Buffjet. "It will make you see stars and taste cherries on your tongue, babe," he'd told her, tricorn hat sheilding his eyes as he loaded a neon-colored chemical into two different syringes in his personal room of the statehouse.

"Okay, but will it make the dreams stop?"

John quit busying himself for a moment and looked Domino in the eyes. She seemed scared and just,  _broken._ Hancock knew broken like the taste of Mentats mixed with the burn of Whiskey. Taking her pale, smooth, unscarred hand in his own ruined fingers, he squeezed with what he hoped came off as reassurance. "On this shit babe, you can dream whatever the fuck you want."

Lazily, he released his grip on her, and pressed one of the needles into the wasted crook of his arm, before pushing on the plange of the syringe. Hancock's eyes fluttered shut, and he let out a long, guttural rasp. It took a while for his vision to straiten, but when he could meet her eyes again, he told her breathily that she didn't even have to dream at all, if she didn't want to. It all sounded so nice, and John looked so, just... _peaceful_ , that Dom didn't even hesitate when he asked for her arm. Hancock somehow knew he would fall for her then, even though they'd barely met. Dom was just too perfect; tough, wild, damaged, and somehow also gentle, and nurturing, but he wouldn't unearth those latter qualities until they'd been in each other's company for a bit longer.

No, he wasn't quite sure he was in love with her until she'd saved his life a handful of times, all while shooting up hundreds of gunners and raiders, and doing countless drugs with him on the road. She was the only person he'd ever met that was running from her past fast enough to party as hard as he did, and he partied _hard._ John couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten along with anyone so well, and neither could Dom. They just always seemed to be on the same page, so they kept around each other. They made a good team, in any case. The thing that really broke his heart and remade it into an object of her unwitting possession though, was her unyielding protection of the ghouls in the Slog, and all her efforts to turn their settlement into a better place. She took that little shithole full of lost souls and turned it into a glittering trade-hub, and for what? She didn't _have_ to do any of it, and she certainly had more responsibility to gain than anything else. John had never met anyone so willing to stand up for the disenfranchised, and he'd never seen her treat a ghoul or even a synth as if they were anything but human.

Dom never once looked at him like the other fleshy humans did, let alone attractive human females. He fucking admired her. Hancock was a decent, generous guy, but Domino was a fucking saint. He would never deserve her, and so he had no idea why later that day, the day after they said their goodbyes to the ghouls in the Slog; he got hammered and buffed-out to drown his feelings, only to end up oversharing them all over the fully stocked bar on the second-floor of Dom's place in Sanctuary. He told her about his old life, his brother, his losses, his...descisions. That he couldn't think of any reason to live life as it was anymore, so he'd ruined his body with a radioactive super-drug just to feel something. A sick part of him wished there was more of it, so he could share that place with Domino, so she'd finally know what he'd meant when he told her the trip had been worth it. John didnt know why it was so important to him that she understood he didn't regret what he ultimately did to himself. Maybe because to regret what he'd done would make it an embarrassment. He'd wanted to die, so he did; unfortunately he'd been reborn as more of a creature than he'd felt like on the inside before. They did more of his buffjet together that night, and he'd be lying if he didnt admit to himself he'd busted it out so he'd stop having to worry if Domino really accepted him, or if she was silently judging him for everything he just told her he'd done.

In his heart John knew better though, especially now, with Dom in her bathroom, holding her steady above a few colorful piles of crushed chems. No, in his heart he knew she was just like him, broken and running. That's why she never judged him, and that's why he felt like he owed her everything sometimes. "It's just..."

She trailed off, covering her eyes with her hands. John's heart sank when he heard her sniffle, and he reflexively drew her much smaller body into his, folding his head down on top of her hair. "Shhh...doll, whatever it is, it will be okay."

She breathed out, continuing, her words muffled into Hancock's baren, marred chest, "I keep having these fucking dreams, and I keep having to relive this moment..."

She trailed off, pulling away from him to wipe her face and nose. John smiled sweetly at her, she almost looked like a child, all ruddy cheeks and eyes swollen full with warm tears of sadness. She looked into his eyes with her piteous ones, and continued, "but sometimes I feel like Shaun is so far away, that those dreams are the only place he's real anymore. Sometimes I don't even know what I'm doing."

Domino glanced down at the chems, blinked hard a few times. Hancock remained silent, letting her empty her over-laden closet of what seemed like some pretty weighty skeletons. The least he could do was help her carry some of the burden without thought. "I mean, you know when I woke up, I couldn't even remember my name. That I still don't. Or my husband's name. All I remember is Shaun. He's supposed to be my motivation, but I..."

Hancock finally felt like it was time for him to step in. He wasn't sure even Domino was fully ready to talk about everything that was gnawing away at her right now, so he drew her back into his chest, and ran his fingers through her hair as she quietly cried against him. After some time, he offered her a little snippet of straw out of the kit. "S'what you came in here for, right?"

Once the negative feelings were toast and a sweet, acrid drip had set in, they both fumbled their way out back, and up the stairs to the bar on the second floor of Dom's shack for a nightcap. Dom was sitting cross-legged on the pool table as John poured them both a drink, when he started to feel a particular brand of touchy-feely word vomit coming on, and his glass didn't meet his mouth in enough time to stop it from spilling out. "You know, I was in a pretty bleak place when I met you, doll."

There the glass was, it had finally made it to his mouth with that scorching liquid behind, but it hadn't been fast enough. Domino was looking at him expectantly, and he knew it wasn't just because she wanted a drink as much as he did. She tended to avoid getting too cross-faded on chems and booze; it made her sick. His irradiated stomach of lead could tough out his mind's insistence on reaching that neverending void of numbness by any means necessary. He refilled what he'd just sucked out of his glass from the bottle, and made his way over to where she was sitting. She was still watching him, waiting for him to go on. Dom always listened to him like everything he had to say was the most interesting thing she'd ever heard, like his life was some, shiny adventure novel and not the garbage heap he knew it to be. Sometimes he wondered if that wasn't why he kept her around, subconsciously at least; to lift him up with her, make him feel better about his stupid, wasted life. John knew that wasn't true though, and nothing would illustrate that more than what he was about to say. Dom had just quietly taken a sip of her drink when he finally continued, "I really was. Scout's honor. "

John chucked, taking another swig. "You said you were confused about your motivation, about Shaun and your husband, your old life. See, when we met I was real confused about my motivation too."

"I was proud of myself, for what I'd built in Goidneighbor, but I felt...I still feel, so guilty about what it cost. And not everyone who wants to live free plays nice, you know, so Goodneighbor isn't always the best neighborhood. Innocent people get hurt, and I feel like that's my fault too...but after building this place for them, this refuge that was the best I could do but still wasnt enough somehow, I just,  _gave up._ "

The ice in Domino's glass tinkled quietly, as if sighing for him. Honestly he could feel himself tearing up. Dom looked a little more concerned now, but let him continue his revelations. She knew he needed to say whatever all of this was, even if he didnt. "I was just so tired and sad all the time, so I tuned it all out and holed myself up in my office. I didn't think I could help anyone, and I was too exhausted to try anymore, so I didn't."

"It's okay John," Dom's voice was low like a pur that he never wanted to stop, but he wasn't finished yet. "It was okay for you to feel that way."

"No. It wasn't, and I only understand that now because of you."

Setting down his glass he moved closer to her, taking her arms in his hands. Even sitting on top of the pool table he loomed over her, softly stroking what he believed was the smoothest, sweetest smelling skin left in this putrid, rotting world. "You're my motivation now, Dom. My religion. You change the world everywhere you go, and if anyone can fix this busted place, it's you babe."

He took a chance, leaning in to kiss her cheek, just shy the corner of her mouth. He knew he shouldn't have, but he couldn't resist the temptation. It gave her chills, and Domino felt as if she both understood what he was trying to say, and was somehow still confused by it. She certainly didn't feel like she was making the commonwealth a better place, she made mistakes all the time. She fucked up. She got people killed, hell,  _she killed people._ Why was he putting her on a pedestal like this? John was also kind, generous, and helpful...She couldn't think of what to say,  but she didn't have to. John went on, barely a rough whisper, "I want to be here, for that, with you. I want...I want to be with you."

He trailed off into a lost sigh, not knowing how to go on. "John?"

He hadn't even realized he'd been looking at his boots until he heard her voice, and his gaze returned to hers. Inching herself toward him, she pressed her full lips to his mouth of scars softly, and for a moment, John saw stars. It felt as if the whole world had opened up and sucked his body into a vacuum of warmth. Save for one, no drug had ever made him feel like her lips were then. He could sense her hand on his face, and he was  _so close_ to tasting her tongue when he forced hinself to stop. He pulled away, breathing ragged, eyes wild. Domino looked similarly shaken, like not even she was sure what had just happened. He started nervously fidgeting with his hands and clothes. "I didn't, that's not what I uh...I mean, it is what I-"

Dom pressed a finger to his lips, and when her mouth pressed together to whisper, " _Shhh,_ " he was sure he could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears. Taking her hand, he moved it away from his mouth, squeezing it tight before returning it to her lap. "It's just, you don't want this, doll.  _You don't want me._ "

Her brows furrowed, and he almost thought she looked angry. "You're making it sound like you don't want something, and you have no idea what I want besides."

Hancock almost gasped at the obscene concept of him somehow, possibly,  _not wanting her._ It made him laugh a little, which left Domino feeling even more confused. "Dom. You can't be serious."

She crossed her arms, and her face was scrunching up like it did when he had her irritated. Before she could unleash, he attempted to explain, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder. "Of course I..." How was he supposed to say this and not sound like a comlete bonehead?

"Of course I want you, Dom. The fucking idea that I wouldn't is ludicrous."

He felt her soften under his touch, stopped his hand from roaming anywhere else when she unfurled her arms from her chest, stopped his eyes from looking downward. He'd seen her like this so many times, but this conversation was making him aware that they were both wearing very little clothing. "You're beautiful, and soft, and strong. And honestly, if there's a dream that haunts me, it's the one where you're lying next to me, and one day you decide you don't want to look at my face anymore. Or that, you can't bear the thought of touching my skin again. I know you don't want to commit to this, _this fucking freakshow_ , for what's left of our lives, and I don't know if I could keep living if that happened. I'm so tired of failure, and I think one more would break me. Losing you would break me, Domino."

Against his better judgement, John allowed her to draw his head down to her chest, remove his hat, and lovingly massage his scalp. God, it felt fucking heavenly. Eyes closing, he couldn't remember the last time anyone had touched him like this, even before his ghoulification. Finally the stroking stopped, and both of Domino's hands fell on either side of John's face, sat in a pitiful heap. He felt raw from laying his feelings bare, and Domino couldn't allow his suffering to continue. She made him look at her, finally, after some stubborn avoidance. "I want you, John," she whispered, and it was the sweetest sound he'd ever heard, like when she purred his name.

"I want every part of you. Your scars, and rough edges," as she continued her left hand traced the hills and valleys of gnarled tissue down his neck, collarbone, pausing to finger the edges of a fleshy crater on his chest. His heart stopped when she moved her lips to his ear, both hands still on his body, controlling him from these two small points. "Your jagged, broken pieces...I want all of it."

Her fingers wandered lower, eventually finding the hemline of his pants. His thighs were flush with the table, and hers were moving uncomfortably close to his from her perch there. He was frozen, unable to move, or react. He didn't know what to do; he wanted to taste her, to have her completely, for her to be his,  _so badly,_ but was it worth risking his sanity? He didn't have to mull it over for long. Look at the state of him, at what he'd been willing to lose just to chase a high. Of course letting this woman think she wanted him, if only for a little while, would be just as worth it as that high was. And if, when she tired of him and she left, perhaps he could pretend she was just away, and die in his sleep, happily thinking she loved him. And besides, her hand kept dipping lower, finally into his trousers now, and he really wasn't much for rational thought anymore. He almost stopped her from going further, afraid of what she'd think when she felt the reality of what he had below his belt, but he let the impulse go, let her hand keep moving steadily closer.

Domino gasped when her fingers found the flesh of John's well,  _heaping_ , manhood, and not in a bad way. Even he could tell she was pleased, though he still tensed up with anxiety every time she ran a digit over a new divet, groove, or mound of scar-tissue, expecting each one to be the deal-breaker...but that never came. She just kept stroking him quietly, hardening him with every passing moment. How did John ever get so lucky? He was afraid to make a move, to overstep; he felt much more comfortable with her in conrol, but he couldn't stop one rogue hand from running its digits along her barely-there-thin pantyline. Her breath left her again, more desperate this time, raspier. He couldn't believe she was allowing him to touch her like this. Hell, the last time he'd been with a human was before his little...incident. No woman in their right mind would look at him that way, so why was Domino doing it? Letting him do this to her, touch her this way? Her skin, especially _this skin_ , was so much softer even than any human girl he could think to recall. 

Dom pressed her lips to his, kissing his doubts into oblivion, pushing his fingers closer to the place he was increasingly wanting to call home. Emboldened by her mouth, John fidgeted her undergarmets to the side and began gently brushing his fingers along her slickening warmth. Domino's lips parted involuntarily, but she welcomed his tongue into her mouth, licking, sucking, finally pulling his ragged bottom lip into it and nibbling gently. _Shit, this was hot._ Even for John. He'd been with plenty of kinky ghoulettes, but Domino was just so sincere in all of her actions, that it made him stiffen even further at the thought of the sounds his cock could make her emit, if he dared to sully her body with it, and she dared to let him.

He pulled away and looked down at himself, so full and ready to be inside of her. "You really sure you want this, s-sugarbomb?"

John couldn't think of what else to say, but luckily he didn't have to. Domino drew him in for another kiss, filled with tongue, attempting to devour his anxiety, doubt, sorrows. Pulling away she purred, "I told you I want every piece of you."

Air shuddered out of Hancock's lungs as he kissed Domino, holding her small, moist opening wide with one hand, and positioning himself with the other. He wasn't going to let his piteous self-esteem get in the way of his body and hers for one more second. She wanted him, and he was going to take her, he wouldn't make her ask again. When John slid into her, Domino felt a sort of wholeness she felt like she'd altogether forgotten, while also somehow feeling like no one had ever filled her up like this before. John was so wide, and his scars did nothing if not help the ever-building friction inside of her as he pounded away, his hands groping tightly at her full hips. John had always loved her full thighs, her round, giant peach of an ass; he had so much to hold as he plunged deeper, hips knocking into the old, worn pool table. How many times had he awoken next to his companion in a heated sweat, dreaming of grasping these thighs? Domino wrapped her legs around him tightly, forcing him deeper, encouraging hin to thrust harder into her, a request he happily obliged.

Domino felt electricity pooling below her belly, just where the tip of John's cock was hammering, when all of a sudden it was over, and she was gasping and mewling so loud she feared the neighbors would think there was an attack on the settlement. Hancock continued devouring her body as her muscles clenched tight around him; he couldn't believe he'd driven her over the edge like that. He had been able to manipulate her body so easily, and then she clenched harder than ever, and it was over for him too. "Fuck, fuck, fuck..."

Domino felt Hancock spilling his insides within her, he continued burying himself deep inside as his contents flowed from her and onto the table. She was so swept up in the brutal, raw, realness of it all that she kissed him hard, as he withered and fell away from her, and she didn't stop until her lips felt numb from the taste of his skin. They pulled away from each other, breathlessly, and before John could muse some sarcasm or other, Domino whispered, "I think I'm in love with you, John."

Hancock breathed out heavily, backing up, fixing his trousers. He suddenly felt, less decent. It was the best and somehow slso worst thing for her to say to him right now. "You don't mean that."

Frustrated, she righted herself, jumping down from the table, approaching him quickly. "Stop telling me you know what I want, or mean. I mean everything I say. I thought you knew that about me."

John recoiled, suddenly sorry for doubting her, and for letting his defenses down all at once. He opened his arms to her, wishing to enfold her there forever, and was happy when she walked right into his loving trap, circling her her own arms around his gaunt frame. "I'm sorry, babe. I'm just, I'm not used to all of this, this... _affection._ "

John felt her recoil, knew she had taken it the wrong way, but he gripped her harder, refusing to let her run away from him. "Not like it's  _too much_ , or anything, sugarbomb. Not like that at all. I'm just..."

His arms fell away fromher into a hopeless shrug. "I'll just never deserve this, is what I guess I'm trying to say."

Domino glanced up at him, heavenly doe eyes all wide, and he'd be damned if she didn't wrap her arms around the ruined flesh of his neck and press her sweet, cherry lips full onto his. When she pulled away, he felt himself finally questioning if the high that little sugarbomb was giving him wasnt deeper, wider, and warmer than the one that had made him into a monster.


End file.
